A Taste For Soup
by LightWoman
Summary: Cal calls in on Gillian while she's making dinner...
1. Chapter 1

For all you soup lovers out there ;-)

**Disclaimer: I own zilch.**

A Taste For Soup

Gillian Foster felt mildly irritated when she heard the knock on the door; besides wondering who could be calling on her on a Saturday evening, she glanced at the array of ingredients she was in the midst of preparing for her evening meal. Giving the onions another quick stir and turning the heat down, she gave the kitchen another quick perusal before heading to the front door to greet her mystery visitor.

The first thing he said when she opened the door wasn't "hey," or "hi," or "Foster," or any of the other things he usually said when he greeted her. Instead he sniffed, and peered over her shoulder as he asked, "What'cha cooking?"

"Good evening, Cal," she said, with a gentle smile, opening the door wider to let him in. "What can I do for you this evening?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I am quite hungry." He grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"I see. So you're just here to scrounge food off me?"

He threw his jacket over the back of her sofa, and she took a moment to register how comfortable he was in her house. His casual nature might have irked some people, but it made warmth spread through her body to think how close they were, how at ease they were in each other's company and homes.

"Sort of. I was going to see if you fancied going out for some dinner. But you're cooking, so it looks like we'll be dining Chez Foster tonight."

She walked back to the kitchen, turning the heat back up on the pan and opening the oven to check on the roasted garlic before turning back to look at him. "Well, aren't you lucky I'm making enough for two?"

He grinned. "My lucky day. So, what's on the menu?" He scanned the kitchen for a clue, but the few things he could see – a chopping board, a knife, a pan with a lid, garlic peel and an empty jug - didn't give him many ideas.

"Soup," she replied, carrying the kettle to the sink and filling it up.

"Soup," he echoed, a trace of laughter in his voice, and she gave him a suspicious look as she replaced the kettle and flicked it on.

"What's so funny about soup?"

"Nothing," he said, his face a picture of seriousness, but she wasn't buying it.

"Soup's a very good meal, you know. Especially home-made soup. Healthy and nutritious, not to mention tasty..."

"I have no doubt."

"And it's easy to make lots at once, so you can use up the rest for meals during the week, unless, of course, you get people inviting themselves unexpectedly to dinner."

He laughed. "So... do you prefer soup for one, or two?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just a question!" he said defensively, but she could see the glint in his eye, and cocked her head at him as she gave him her best scrutinising look.

"No it's not. Come on, tell me."

"I just like soup, that's all! A lot. I've never had it with you, though..." He trailed off, giving her a wicked grin that only made her frown at him even more.

"Cal Lightman, you are not telling me the whole story. And until you do, you're not getting a single mouthful!"

"Withholding soup, eh? Women." He shook his head, amused by the sight of her, hands on her hips, drumming her fingers impatiently against her stomach.

"Cal..." she warned, and he chuckled, sitting down at her table.

"Alright, fine. Soup was sort of a 'code word' if you like, when I was working at the Pentagon..."

"A code word?"

"Mm hmm."

"And are you going to tell me what it was a code word for?"

The kettle had boiled, and he couldn't help but smile at the way she was able to pour the water into the jug, add the liquid stock and stir it, all without missing a beat of the conversation or, it seemed, allowing her irritation at him to diminish even for a second.

"Sex," he said, and some of the hot stock suddenly sloshed out of the side of the jug as she moved the spoon too quickly.

"Damn," she muttered, grabbing a cloth, and he watched her as she silently mopped it up. Eventually she turned back to him, her face looking remarkably blank. "I see," she said. "Well, I'm afraid that's not the kind of soup I'm serving tonight." Her mind, however, was fixed firmly on the comment he'd made earlier, about never having had soup with her, and she felt a blush rising to her cheek as she realised the subtext of that comment, which had completely bypassed her at the time.

"Pity," he said softly, and she rolled her eyes again.

"What, you haven't had enough of it lately?" she asked lightly, and he shrugged.

"Quality, not quantity, love."

She turned her back to him so he couldn't read her expression, continuing to stir the stock. "What, none of those women were good enough for you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice controlled. "You must have very high standards for soup."

"I do."

She jumped when she felt his hand suddenly on her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. "I have no doubt your soup will be amazing, love." He lifted the lid from the pan and gave it an appreciative nod. "Looks good. Smells good."

She swallowed. "Doesn't mean it'll taste good."

He stepped back from her, waiting for her to turn around, and when she didn't he tugged lightly on her arm until she did, spoon still in hand.

"You really think that?" he asked, the hidden meaning in his words hanging in the air between them, and Gillian felt her breathing start to quicken, a thousand thoughts running through her mind.

"I just mean... you don't always know what you're going to get. With... soup." Her eyes darted up to meet his, and he saw the doubt in them.

"That's true," he said, trying to adopt a casual tone. "But sometimes you get a pretty good idea. For example, if you know the ingredients, if you've spent a lot of time with them and know you love them... if you like the look of it, like every damn thing about it... who's to say you wouldn't love the taste of it?"

She turned around again, lifted the jug and began pouring the hot stock into the pan. "How's Emily?" she asked suddenly, and he frowned.

"Don't change the subject, love."

"Why not? It's just a silly conversation," she said lightly, but he caught her hand in his, lifting his other hand to her face. He cupped her cheek, turning her face towards his, and waited until she dragged her eyes to his to speak.

"I don't think it's a silly conversation at all."

She swallowed. "Cal..."

"If you want this conversation to just be about 'soup'..." he gestured to the pan. "It can be. If, however, you want it to be about... _soup _soup..." He paused. "Well, it could be about that too."

She shook her head, an embarrassed laugh escaping her. "How did we end up discussing this? You come over for some dinner, I'm cooking soup, you tell me about some sexual connotations it has for you, and all of a sudden you're suggesting we... I mean... are you suggesting we..." She bit her lip, furious with herself for blushing the way she could feel she was. Maybe he _wasn't _even suggesting that, not really. Maybe he was just being Cal, flirting with her, pushing her a little too far just to see how she'd react. Maybe he didn't really want it at all, and now she'd gone and told him that that's what she thought he was saying, and... _oh god. _She picked up a cloth and wiped her hands, her eyes refusing to meet his.

"I'm saying..." he began, then stopped until she couldn't help but look at him, wondering why he didn't continue. "I'm saying," he repeated, "that I wouldn't mind having soup with you."

"Wouldn't mind?" she snapped, flinging the cloth down on the unit. "Gee, Cal, you really know how to make a girl feel special. Is that how you hooked all the others? Zoe, Clara, Poppy, Naomi... _Hey, how are you doing, I wouldn't mind having sex with you, climb on board_?"

He was studying her closely, not saying anything for a minute, and she let her breath out in a large sigh, then turned away again. Taking the roasted garlic from the oven, she turned it off and started squeezing the sweet garlic pulp into the pan. She could tell he was waiting for her to turn around before he continued, and eventually the silence became too much. She stirred the soup, replaced the lid and rinsed her hands, then turned back to him at last.

"Let me rephrase," he said when he could see he had her attention again, and she was surprised by the gentle tone of his voice. Gentle, but with an edge of... arousal. She swallowed again. "And let's ditch the soup references, shall we?" He reached out to hold her arms, turning her so she was facing him more fully. "Gillian," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "I've wanted to sleep with you for a long time. I thought you knew that. I mean, I'm hardly subtle, sometimes, with the way I check you out."

She would have laughed if she weren't so on edge right now, so nervous, so confused. Instead she merely gave him a look which said, 'carry on', so he did.

"I've wanted you for a bloody long time. Well, can you blame me? Look at you. You're the most gorgeous woman on the planet." He smiled as her cheeks flushed pink again at the compliment. "And you're my best friend," he continued. "Which means I don't want a one night stand. I want... you. All of you. See, the thing is Gill..." He began stroking her arm lightly with his thumb. "I'm not just attracted to you physically. I'm attracted to you in every way there is. I love everything about you." Her eyes widened at the sound of the word _love_, and he didn't miss it. "Yeah, that's right," he said. "Love. I love you."

"Why are you telling me this now?" she asked, and he felt a lightning bolt of disappointment that she was answering him with a question, not a heartfelt confession of her own.

He took a step back, his mask quickly falling back into place. "Soup. Our 'silly' conversation. I don't know. Anyway. Just forget I said anything." He sat down, then almost immediately stood up again. "Maybe I won't stay for dinner."

"Cal..." She knew why he was withdrawing, knew he was hurt that she hadn't responded to his revelation with a declaration of love in the same way, and knew there was no way she was letting him walk out of her house right now. "Cal," she repeated, catching his arm. "Wait."

"It's alright, love," he said. "Just chalk this up to one of my stupid stunts, and we'll just forget about it, yeah?"

"I don't want to forget about it," she said firmly, and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

"You don't?"

"I don't," she said softly, closing the distance between them and resting her hands on his shoulders. "I've been waiting for you to say something like that to me for a long, long time. I just never thought you would."

He let his hands fall to her waist, looking at her face closely. She didn't pull away; if anything she seemed to respond positively to his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a second and her lips parting slightly. "But this will change things, Cal. That's why we have to be sure, before we jump into anything we're going to regret."

"No way in hell I'd regret doing this," he told her in a low voice, and she smiled, but there was still hesitation written on her face.

"But things might get complicated. If things didn't work out, we've got the company to think of, we've got our friendship to consider..."

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, you're right." He continued to nod, until suddenly his hands weren't on her waist anymore; one was higher up her back and one was on the back of her head, pulling her towards him as he crashed his lips to hers.

It took her half a second to respond; when she did, she allowed herself to let go completely, and, really, _thinking _wasn't part of it. This was pure reaction: her body wanted him, and was doing everything it could to seek the release it was after. Her tongue was pressing inside his mouth, tasting him fully, her hands were wrapped around him, her chest was pressed against him and, as the kiss intensified, she lifted a leg over his hip and began to grind her body against him. He moaned into her mouth and she drew back, breathless and glassy eyed, keeping her leg in place.

"You were saying?" he murmured, and she let out a shaky breath.

"What I was saying was complete nonsense," she said with a smile, her eyes continually darting to his lips. Now she knew what it was like to kiss those lips, she didn't think she'd ever be able to stop thinking about it.

"So... are we going to do this?" he asked, wanting to make sure. "Us, I mean. Give it a go, properly. Not..." he gestured between them. "I mean... I'm not saying I _don't _want that. Obviously, I do..."

She slipped her hands lower, stroking his erection as she gave him a sultry smile. "Obviously."

He swallowed. "What I'm saying, love... is..." He fought to find the right words, but concentrating was becoming difficult as she continued to move those dainty fingers of hers against him. Even through the material of his jeans she felt incredible. "What I mean," he said, finding his voice, "is that if you don't want to rush into things, you know... I'll wait. As long as you want. I just want you. I want to be with you."

She smiled. "I want you too. And in case I didn't make it clear earlier..." She pressed another quick kiss to his lips, then trailed her lips up his jaw towards his ear. "I love you too," she whispered, and he tightened his grip on her.

"You do?"

"I do." She nodded. "And what I want right now... is soup."

"Soup?" He glanced behind her, at the pan on the stove. "Soup, or... _soup_?"

"Soup," she said, her eyes glimmering. "As much soup as I can get." She walked backwards, then lifted the lid off the pan and inhaled deeply. "It smells _amazing_."

"It does," he said slowly, watching her carefully.

She recovered the pan, turned the heat down, then spun back to look at him. "_That _soup just needs about another half hour or so to finish off... maybe even longer." She saw his eyes light up, and couldn't control a laugh as she walked towards him again. "So while we're waiting for that soup... want to have some soup of the other variety?"

He grinned, licking his lips. "You bet, darling," he said, as he tugged her into his arms again, trailing kisses up her neck. "You bet."

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A/N I _may _be persuaded to write a second chapter of this. _Maaaaybe _;-)


	2. Chapter 2

This is for gidget89, who gave me icetiems quite a while ago in return for a second chapter of this story, and I am finally delivering my end of the bargain!

So, this chapter (surprise surprise!) is rated M. You have been warned ;-)

**Disclaimer: Still don't own them.**

Chapter Two

They'd stumbled from the kitchen and up the stairs, tearing each other's clothes off in a frenzy. Gillian had never felt so turned on in her life, and from the fervent way Cal was kissing her and the urgency with which he ripped off her clothes, he felt exactly the same way.

By the time they reached the bedroom they were stripped to just their underwear, and Gillian was tracing first her fingers over the tattoos on Cal's arm, and then her tongue. She felt him shiver beneath her touch, and smiled against his skin. Even though she'd wanted this for a long time (despite trying her best to deny it a lot of the time), she'd always worried about how it would be with Cal. Not because she doubted his performance – she had no doubts whatsoever that he would be a fantastic lover – but because she knew he'd been with a lot of women, and none of them were like her. They fell far more into the category of 'bad girl' than 'good girl', and she knew that was what he liked. Tricky women, women who weren't to be trusted, naughty, wild, sexy, confident women. And she wasn't like that. All her doubts, however, vanished when she read the depth of his attraction to her on his face, when she felt the way he touched her, the way he quivered beneath her touch. There was no doubt, now, that he wanted her – badly. And that was enough to assure her that she _would _be enough for him. _Maybe_, she thought, _I will even be better. _

That thought made her laugh, and he lifted his mouth from her chest to look into her eyes. "Something funny, love?" He finished tugging her bra straps down her arms as he spoke, then reached behind her to unhook it and toss it to the floor.

"I was just thinking," she said honestly, and he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"About...?"

"About... things," she said, giggling, and he shook his head with a grin.

"I'll give you something to think about, darling," he growled as he pushed his underwear off, kicking them to the side.

"Mmm." She ran her fingers teasingly over his stomach, feeling his muscles twitch beneath her touch. "And what might that be?" Her hand fell lower, wrapping around the length of him, and his head fell to her shoulder, biting the skin lightly.

She increased her grip, squeezing and releasing and moving her hand slow then fast, a constantly changing rhythm that made him push her back on the bed, a feral grin on his face. "Keep that up, love, and it'll be a very quick course of soup for us. And I'm sure you want to be able to savour our first bowlful, right?"

She propped herself up on her elbows, looking at him through her lashes. "Come and have a taste, then," she purred, and a second later he was on top of her, pressing her into the bed as his mouth frantically kissed every inch of bare skin. His hands weren't idle either – as he kissed lower, over her chest and stomach, he hooked a finger through her underwear, and she wriggled free of them with his help, watching as he threw them on the floor by the bed before turning his attention back to her.

"You were saying... you want me to taste you?"

He saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes, and reached his hand between her legs to stroke her gently. He could feel how wet she was already, so being turned on by him wasn't the problem. When he met her eyes and saw the nervousness she was desperately trying to hide, he thought he understood. She was worried she wouldn't be good enough for him, worried he'd be comparing her to all his other conquests. _If only she knew..._

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, continuing to stroke her, watching the pleasure wash over her face. "Beautiful... and smart... and kind... and just, amazing, really. Amazing." He dipped his face to hers, kissing her deeply as he slid a finger inside her. He felt her muscles contract around him, felt her hands slide up his back and into his hair, felt her relax beneath him. Tearing his lips away from hers, he gazed down at her as he inserted another finger, curling them inside her and causing her back to arch off the bed and a wanton moan to escape her throat.

"Cal..."

"I love you," he told her. "And I want you. More than I've ever wanted a woman in my life." He saw the recognition on her face, knew she believed him, and gently removed his fingers. She whimpered in disappointment, but when he shifted himself further down the bed and lowered his face to her, she tilted her hips towards him. There was no doubt on her face now, just deep arousal. He smiled as he flicked his tongue against her clit, making her cry out. He did it again, drawing back, then licking her again. She writhed beneath him, desperate for more constant contact, and after about the tenth time he felt her fingers tighten almost painfully in his hair.

"Cal..." There was a warning tone in her voice, and he grinned.

Instead of answering her, he simply lowered his face to her again, licking her slowly before latching his tongue onto her clit and drawing it into his mouth. He began to suck it gently, then slipped his fingers inside her again.

She cried out louder than before at the added pleasure when she felt his fingers twisting inside her. Coupled with the pressure of his tongue laving against her clit she thought she might just pass out there and then.

She moaned his name and felt the speed of his thrusts increase; another cry of his name and he was sucking her clit even harder, and she scraped her nails along his scalp as he continued to pleasure her and she continued to repay him by moaning his name the way he loved.

The sound of his name on her lips only fuelled his desire for her; soon, though, she lost the ability to form proper words as she rushed closer to her climax. She was gasping and mumbling indecipherable words, and he loved the way she was losing control beneath his touch. Gillian Foster was not a woman who ever seemed out of control, but she was now, because of him, and that sent his pride and arousal soaring.

She tightened her grip in his hair as her orgasm hit, an inarticulate cry erupting from her. He waited until her thighs had stopped trembling and the contractions around his fingers had grown weaker before he withdrew his mouth and fingers. He licked her again before sucking his fingers, making sure her eyes were open so she could see what he was doing.

"You taste delicious, love," he told her, but she merely smiled, still too cloudy from her orgasm to reply. He crawled up her body, planting soft kisses to her tender flesh, then licked gently along her lower lip. "Delicious," he murmured, kissing her again.

When they broke apart, she gave him a sultry smile. "Do I get to taste you now?"

"Not now, love." She pouted, and he ran his finger lightly across her lips, "Right now, I need to be inside you. I need to feel you wrapped around me. I need to hear you scream my name when I make you come, even harder than before."

She swallowed, the heat of her arousal making her cheeks flush. "I want that too."

He kissed her again, and she managed to turn them over so she was sitting astride him. He grinned at her as they broke apart. "Like it on top do you, love?"

"I like it lots of ways," she murmured as she lowered herself onto him, and the only reply he could muster was a groan of pleasure, both at her words and at the incredible sensation of being inside her.

She began rotating her hips, torn between her natural instinct to close her eyes and her desire to watch him. His hands were far from idle, stroking every inch of her skin he could reach, and she used hers to press down lightly on his chest. "Cal..." she breathed, and he watched her eyes flutter closed as she bit her lip. He reached behind her, pulling her towards him so her breasts were pressed against his bare chest, and slid his hands up to her hair. She was squeezing her muscles around him, and he fought to control his breathing as the sensations started sweeping through his body.

"You feel amazing," he told her, but the only response she could muster was a whimper of pleasure.

Suddenly she stilled her movements, and he groaned in frustration as he gripped her arm. "Don't stop, darling, please. You're killing me here."

"I want..." She turned them over, gripping his arms tightly as he slipped back inside her. "I want you, now. Thrusting into me. Hard."

"As you wish, darling," he growled, pulling out before slamming back into her. "Like that?"

"God, yes," she moaned, digging her nails into his shoulders. "Cal..."

"You say my name like that and this will be over far too quickly," he warned her. "You know what it does to me, the sound of you moaning my name like that?" He pulled her legs up and hooked them over his shoulders, allowing him to go even deeper inside her, and she let out a guttural scream at the explosion of pleasure.

"Oh god... Cal..."

She moved her hands to grip the bedsheets, wanting to touch him but worrying she'd hurt him with the force she could feel herself using on the sheets.

He continued thrusting into her, harder and faster, watching her beautiful face awash with pleasure. He was close, so close, but wanted to keep his promise of making her come harder than he had with his tongue.

"Gill..." he moaned, and the sound of him saying her name as he buried himself inside her again was too much. She felt the orgasm start to rip through her body, making her shake and cry out, inarticulate words and gasps pouring from her as he continued to pound into her.

She reached for his head, slipping one hand into his hair and scratching her nails along his scalp. "Come with me," she whispered as her orgasm continued to flutter through her body.

With one final thrust he let himself go, spilling himself deep inside her as she pressed her lips to his and stroked her tongue against his own.

When they were both spent he collapsed onto the bed at her side, pulling her towards him and stroking her thigh lightly with his fingers. She shivered against his delicate touch, her face still flushed and her eyes bright.

"That was... the best soup I've ever had," she breathed, and he grinned.

"Me too, love. Me too."

She rested her head on his chest, running her hand up and down his arm. He marvelled at how good it felt to just lie there with her in his arms, listening to the sound of her soft breathing, her warm body pressed against his. He was just thinking he could lie like that forever when her voice broke the silence.

"So, I guess now we should go and have the other kind of soup."

He chuckled. "I guess we should."

He sat up, reaching for his nearest item of clothing, when she moved to sit beside him on the bed, cupping his face with her hands. "But Cal... for the record..."

"Yes?" he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"When we've had that soup... I just might find my appetite for the other kind of soup returning," she purred, and he grinned as he kissed her.

"In that case," he said, picking up her underwear and tossing the black lacy material at her, "Let's hurry up and have some soup."


End file.
